Zugzwang
by MyownlilfantaC
Summary: Based on the upcoming episode of CM. When Reid discovers that his girlfriend has been kidnapped by her stalker, he and the BAU team band together to find her before it's too late. Warning: Strong language and angry Reid. Will be a two, possibly three shot story.
1. Out of Control

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is the property of CBS ( I think). I do not own Criminal Minds nor do I seek to make any kind of profit from this story, I am merely borrowing their awesome characters for a little while.

**Also**, I was super scared to make the title of the story the same as the title of the yet-to-be-released episode...if anyone knows if I could get in trouble for this, please let me know and I shall change it at once.

**Chapter 1: Out of Control**

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Reid rolled his bottom lip between his teeth again, vaguely noting in the back of his mind that it was the seventy-eighth time he'd done so since waking up this morning. The sting of pain that followed made him realize that perhaps seventy eight bites to his lip was perhaps a few too many.

His eyes roamed the file in front of him as if they were made of glass, rolling in his head but unable to see anything, yet still feeling dry when he went several moments without blinking.

Why hadn't she called him back yet? A text message. An email. A letter. _Anything_. It was driving him crazy and he couldn't help the worry that was slowly building in the pit of his stomach, he could feel it taking root like a poisonous vine, it's clinging creepers imbedding themselves in his gut like cold fingers. Sometimes he thought he could feel them in the back of his throat, around his windpipe, threatening to crush the air from his lungs.

He wasn't stupid, he knew what the feeling in his gut was. Panic, even in its beginning stages when it was still weak and could plant its seed, undetected, in your mind, was a feeling he was all too familiar with, and he was an expert at pushing it back, down into the bowls of his core where it belonged until there was a reason to let it break free.

He often did some of his best thinking under extreme duress.

"Reid!"

The young genius felt himself jolt back into awareness, tearing his eyes off the file before him and finally blinking away the burn in his eyes to stare, stupidly he was sure, over at Morgan.

The elder agent looked slightly annoyed and his eyes darted down to Reid's left hand. "Do you mind?"

He followed Morgan's gaze, his eyes flickering briefly over the pen in his hand, not understanding what he possibly could have been doing this time to annoy the man.

"What?"

"You were tapping that pen over and over on the desk so hard I was waiting for it to snap in half and spray ink everywhere."

Reid just blinked, slightly alarmed that he had not been aware of his hand moving of it's own accord. "Was I?" He asked, a little skeptical. "Sorry."

He let his eyes fall back to the file, which he hadn't even read yet, wondering what the hell it was he had meant to do with it in the first place. Though if he knew himself at all he had probably just pulled the one on the top of the stack over to stare at in order to avoid suspicion while he lost himself in thought. He sometimes found that he was one step ahead of himself like that.

"Reid, you alright man?"

He looked back over at Morgan, feeling confused again. He really should not let himself get lost in thought so often. "Fine."

Morgan didn't look convinced and gave him one of his 'why do you bother lying to me, Pretty Boy?' looks.

"Really? Cause you've spent the better part of the last hour staring at that same page in that same file, barely blinking, nervous fidgeting and I think if you bite your lip one more time it's going to start bleeding."

The genius' large brown eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Don't profile me, Morgan."

"I'm not profiling you, Reid, any person, profiler or not, would be able to tell something is up with you just by looking."

Reid sighed and checked his phone for the millionth time, biting back a growl when he saw the blank screen again. Nothing.

"Where are you going?" Morgan called after him as he rose and made his way to the kitchenette for some coffee.

He dumped the cold stuff down the sink and set about brewing a new pot, as it was only two in the afternoon and he was going to need at least three cups to get him through the rest of the day. As the grossly overworked percolator came to life, rumbling deeply and spewing coffee scented steam into his face, Spencer resisted the urge to call her again. He'd already tried twice and even that felt like too much. That creep could be watching and listening from a million different places and he wasn't going to risk her safety by freaking out for no reason.

For all he knew she could be out running errands. Or gone shopping. Or, god forbid, out with some friends. God knows she deserves a little fun after all she'd been through.

The thought of Maeve out enjoying a day with some of her friends brought a small smile to his face, but it faded quickly. He wished she would let him help her. He wished he could give her a better life. He _wished_ that they could finally meet in person, though if it meant keeping her safe he would be happy to simply listen to her voice until she grew tired of speaking to him. He would listen to her genius ideas and deepest thoughts with rapture if it meant he could be secure in his protection of her.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind." he murmured as he poured himself a generous cup of coffee.

He dumped a bucket of sugar into the cup and was silently stirring it in when Morgan made him jump out of his skin a second time, this time because he decided to slap a large hand down on his shoulder.

"Jesus, Morgan!" He cursed angrily, smacking the smirking man's hand away.

"Did I just hear you quoting Shakespeare's views on love, Pretty Boy?"

"You know Shakespeare? That's suprising. I thought your head was filled to capacity with pickup lines and sports."

"Ouch." Morgan said, his grin faltering at the uncharacteristic jab from his coworker. "You sure everything is ok?"

Reid, already armed and ready to fire with another insult on the tip of his tongue, met Morgan's dark, concerned gaze and felt the fight leave him almost instantly. His shoulders slumped downwards and his gaze fell into his coffee. "Sorry." he mumbled, clutching the ceramic mug tightly.

"You're starting to worry me, Reid. Just tell me what's going on, I might be able to help. If nothing else, it you'll probably feel better." Morgan coaxed.

He looked up at his friend and coworker, feeling the pressure of his secrets pushing against his chest, the weight of his burden crushing his shoulders, and released a shaky breath.

"There's...this girl."

A slow smile stretched across Morgan's face, complete with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, but he waited patiently for Reid to continue.

Bracing himself, Reid really was about to tell Morgan everything. He'd wanted to tell someone, anyone, about this, but he'd been sworn to secrecy. But he felt, now more than ever, as if the situation was rapidly deteriorating, spiralling dangerously out of his and Maeve's control. If nothing else, he could count on Morgan to have some decent advice, he just had to be careful and word his story in a way that would not give away his fear and his growing sense of panic. If Morgan got a whiff of _that_, then there would be no stopping him in his hunt for the truth.

And that could prove to be deadly for Maeve.

He opened his mouth, prepared to launch into the story, when his phone rang shrilly into the silence of the kitchenette.

His heart leapt into his throat and he nearly threw his coffee mug back onto the counter to free up both his hands, sloshing the dark liquid over the sides and onto the counter top, in his mad grab for his cell phone.

He pulled it from his pants pocket, his eyes reading the number on the screen in a nanosecond and sending the message to his brain at lightning speed. He stopped breathing and jabbed the answer button with his thumb while simultaneously bringing the device up to his ear.

"Maeve!" he tried not to sound too relieved, clutching at the edge of the counter with a white knuckled grip.

But instead of her calm, gentle voice floating through the phone line, a man's voice slithered into his ear, tunneling into his brain like a drill and he felt those poisonous vines dig their icy thorns into his stomach as they clambered up into his throat, crowding it and cutting off his oxygen.

"Wrong, actually, Doctor. A word I'm sure you aren't used to hearing."

He had to swallow a few times before he thought it was safe to open his mouth without vomiting. "Who are you?" he asked.

Silence for a moment and then a contemplative tone, "She didn't tell you about me? I find that hard to believe."

His teeth were grinding together, the poisonous vines of panic being incinerated by an expanding ball of rage, burning white hot in his core. "Where is she?"

"She's here with me, of course!" The man cried, as if it were obvious. "We belong together, her and I." his voice sounded farther away, like he had his face turned away from the phone. Like he was talking to another person in the room. "Don't we, Love?"

"SPENCER!" Maeve screamed so loud that her voice carried through the phone and into the bullpen, her jarring voice a chain of lightning whose path of least resistance seemed to be through the heads of those in the office and they jolted at her cries as if they had been electrocuted. Their heads swiveled around jerkily, looking for the source of the shock to their senses.

Reid gasped, subconsciously pressing the phone closer to his ear as if it would somehow bring him closer to her. Anger bubbled like boiling water in his veins and he snarled viciously into the phone. "Let her go you piece of shit!"

People were gathering around him now and Hotch and Rossi had come out of their offices, but he barely noticed them, his heart pounding so loud in his ears that he could hear nothing but the voices from the phone. The edges of his vision grew dark in his fury and his skin tingled, his muscles shook.

"Now someone as intelligent as yourself should know better than that, Doctor. She isn't yours, Reid and _we mustn't touch what isn't ours_!"

"I swear to God, I _will_ find you and when I do I'll blow your face off your fucking skull!" he snapped into the phone, now submerged well under the murky waters of hatred.

It was this sudden comprehension of his current mental state that scared his brain back into a semi stable state of clarity and he closed his eyes, breathing through his nose to calm down, pulling himself out of the depths of his anger and shaking the darkness from the edges of his vision.

"That's not very nice. You're no good for her anyway, not with _that_ temper. She's a kind, _gentle_ person."

Now that he was actually listening, Reid could detect a hint of immaturity in the way the man spoke. Short sentences, simple words, a whiny inflection. Almost childish.

"What kind of person are _you_?" He asked, sounding much more calm but still seething quietly.

There was a moment of silence on the line, in which Reid held his breath, nearly able to hear the creep smile on the other end.

"I'm _exactly_ the kind of man she needs."

The line went dead.

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Please do review, they motivate me to update faster...seriously.


	2. Team Work

**Chapter 2: Team Work**

The panic was back again, clawing at the inside of his throat, making it burn and sting and he struggled to expand his lungs and pull air through his constricted throat, causing it to spasm painfully.

His hands tightened on the edge of the counter and turned his knuckles white. It was currently the only thing keeping him upright.

He has her. He _has _her.

Her terrified screams echoed in his head.

_'SPENCER!'_

"Spence?"

He peeled his eyes open when JJ's soft voice reached his ears and he felt one of her tiny hands on his arm.

"I can't breathe." he confessed, trying again to pull air into his lungs. He was starting to feel dizzy.

She grabbed both his hands at once and turned him around to face her so that his back was pressed into the edge of the counter.

"Spence, we're going to help you. " she said calmly, her voice holding an edge of promise to it. "You have an expert team of people by your side who are the _best _at what they do."

Her words of reason are what finally penetrated the fog of panic clouding his head. Scattered shards of thoughts, shattered by the silence of the line going dead in his ear, began to fall back into place, no longer cutting at his mind and allowing panic to bleed out.

A few calming breaths later and everything had slowed to a stop. His heart no longer pounded in his ears, allowing him to focus and he opened his eyes to see his whole team staring at him. Some looking worried, some looking confused, but all with an air of readiness about them.

They were prepared to hear his story and eager to get started on helping him finish it with a happy ending.

A sense of clarity overcame him them, the likes of which he had only felt a few times before. This is what he did. This was the one area where he could confidently say he was one of the best. He'd dealt with worse people than this scumbag and come out the victor.

He pushed a silent breath past his lips and started, his voice icy cold, snapping out from behind his teeth like a whip.

"Ok, here's the deal. Everyone knows I was having issues with severe migraines about six months ago and I'm sure everyone noticed when they miraculously stopped. This is wholly due to a geneticist named Maeve who's assistance and expertise I sought to try and put a stop to them. Over a span of six months we spoke regularly, strictly professional at first and on matters pertaining only to the issue of my migraines. After a while, however, our conversations gradually branched into more and more personal areas and it wasn't long before we both realized that..." he let the implication hang, confident that they understood what he had not said. "She confessed wanting to meet in person but..." he hesitated here for a second, used to thinking of the whole situation as top secret, "but there was a problem. She had a stalker."

Comprehension finally dawned on the faces of his teammates at the final piece of the puzzle.

"He's your stereotypical stalker. Threatening letters, love letters, letters of undying devotion and loyalty with a creepy amount of unjustified anger. The only thing that she said stood out was that he seemed to be pretty limited in the way he wrote to her. Like he had an underdevelloped vocabulary or something."

He placed his hands on his hips, biting his lip contemplatively.

"The last two months the letters started turning violent. He didn't understand why she wasn't answering him. He didn't understand why she didn't see what he was trying to show her. He became angry, threatening to kill her if she so much as left the house, believing that every time she did up until then that she'd been going to see some other guy." he sighed, "Then, three weeks ago, the letters and emails and phone calls just...stopped. I was concerned at first as, you all know as well as I, that when a stalker stops stalking it usually means he's reached his breaking point and is planning something drastic." He shook his head, "But as the days stretched into weeks and nothing happened and there was no sign of the guy anywhere, we both started to relax. I thought maybe he'd committed suicide as it seemed unlikely that he'd lose interest or switch focus to another person so abruptly."

"And now he has her." Morgan said quietly.

Reid nodded slowly. "And now he has her."

Hotch ran a hand over his face and folded his arms across his chest. "What do you know about this guy?"

"Almost nothing!" Reid snapped, angry at himself for not pushing Maeve harder to give him information about the guy. "I tried asking about him but she was so reluctant to tell me anything. She was scared he might find out about me." he shook his head. "His voice sounded like a grown man's. No accent. But there was something about the way he spoke. His choice of words suggested immaturity or naivety."

"A mental disorder maybe?"

Reid shook his head dismissively. "No. Not like that." he frowned as he thought back to his conversation, concentrating hard on how the man's voice had sounded, what words and syllables he had stressed and which one he hadn't. Where he speech had picked up or slowed down. His choice of words and...

Suddenly it hit him and he stared open mouthed at his team. "No...like he was talking to someone younger than him. Like he was talking down to me or like he thought I wouldn't understand what he was saying."

"So he thinks he's smarter than you." Blake said. "Purposefully dumbing down his words to a level that he thinks you're capable of understanding."

JJ frowned then. "Didn't you say that he was doing the same kind of thing when writing his letters to Maeve?"

Morgan nodded, "Ok, so he's confident, arrogant, aggressive and thinks he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Classic narcissistic personality. But that doesn't explain why he would accommodate his speech as if everyone around him were somehow...children who wouldn't otherwise understand what he was saying. That suggest something deeper than a holier-than-thou complex."

Rossi, having been silent up until then, finally stepped in.

"It sounds like we might be looking at someone in psychosis, someone detached from reality. Not enough to be unable to function outside of an institution but enough to distort his perceptions of the people around him." he folded his arms across his chest, mirroring Hotch's tense posture. "If he's gone through a psychotic break, maybe we can start by looking for men with past careers that involved dealing with people of a young age or a less than stellar IQ score. Like teachers, psychologists and doctors."

"That's still a lot of people." Morgan said.

"Not if I get Garcia to narrow it down to people who have documented interactions with Geneticists in Virginia." Reid said, already jogging towards the tech analyst's office.

He felt a small flame of hope ignite amongst the twisting, thorny vines tearing at his insides. The Unsub would have to of had initial contact with Maeve at some point, and it would have had to be scheduled and documented.

"Garcia!" He nearly shouted in his excitement, bursting through her door without knocking.

She looked startled at his dramatic entrance but she didn't have time to ask the obvious question that was posed on her lips before Reid started talking so fast it was hard for her to keep up.

"I need you to look up men in Virginia who used to be teachers, doctors or psychologists but who either quit or were let go within the last year. Specific focus on those who had multiple trips to either a specialist of some kind or a doctor. Once you pull all those up, cross reference them with those who have had one or more trips to a geneticist."

He began to pace as she typed furiously on her keyboard, her fingers a mere blur as they flew.

"If the profile is correct then the Unsub could have an unstable mental past, whether it be with his family members or with himself, so it is likely he'll have had a few trips to some kind of doctor. If he knows Maeve then he might have been sent there by one of his doctors. If that _is _the case then it will have been documented." he paused, considering the other option with distaste, "Unless of course they randomly met in a coffee shop somewhere, then we're back to square one."

"Give me time, Junior G man and you shall have the answers that you seek." Garcia mumbled distractedly.

He watched with bated breath as boxes with pictures and dialogue popped in and out of existence on several different monitors at once, her head swivelling this way and that to catch the information in a fraction of a second before it disappeared before her eyes, her hands never slowing in their flurry across the keyboard in her lap.

After a few more seconds of the dizzying display of organized chaos, everything stilled and Garcia swiveled in her chair to look at him, the faces of four men filling her main monitor behind her head.

"Ok Reid, we have Aaron Caldwick, Robert Casey, Thomas Freeman and Carlos Cormier. I am printing off their info and their relevancy to the search parameters you set for me as we speak!" She finished with a smile, standing to make her way to the printer across the room.

She gathered the generous pile of papers in her hand and handed them over to Reid, who took them and then proceeded to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a grateful hug.

"You're as much of a genius as I am Garcia." He pulled away, keeping his hand on her shoulder as he looked her in the eye. "Maybe more."

She looked worried now, her smile having vanished at the uncharacteristic hug. "Reid, what's going on? Is everything ok?"

He hesitated before replying with "Everything is fine." like he normally would, because that would be a lie.

"No. Things are a mess for me right now. In a big way." he smiled sadly at her panicked look, "But I'm going to try and make it right again."

She nodded, her mouth hanging open and tears gathering in her eyes. She knew it must have been bad. If Reid, of all people, was admitting to the urgency of the situation, then it must be really awful.

She nodded shakily, making beads in her hair clack together. "Ok. Ok, I will be _right here _if you need me. You need _anything_, you call me right away, understand?"

"Thanks Garcia."

He fled the office, the papers in hand, and checked his watch as he reentered the bullpen. Eighteen minutes had passed since the line went dead on his phone.

"What do we got?" Morgan called as soon as he rounded the corner. The team had migrated back to the kitchenette and stood around the large table, all of them with their arms crossed tensely, following Reid's progress across the room.

He sorted the papers on the table into four piles, one for each man. He picked up the first and began reading out loud.

"Aaron Caldwick. Thirty two year old caucasian male." The man looked dirty and this photo was clearly a mug shot. The man was already grey, his hair and beard disheveled and unkempt looking. He quickly scanned through the file for pertinent information. "His mother was committed to a mental hospital in 1998 and was later diagnosed with a slew of disorders including schizophrenia and later dementia before she died in 2003. Suicide. Caldwick was in and out of Juvi all through his teenage years but seemed to smarted up after that. He finished highschool with outstanding grades and then went on to university to get his PhD in Psychology and...was arrested in 2010 for assault, which he claims was self defence because," he frowned, re-reading the text to make sure he'd read it right, "because he claimed the assailant was a vampire trying to turn him."

Rossi cocked an eyebrow, "That doesn't sound like our guy. He seems way too out of touch with reality to be someone who could plan carefully enough to stalk someone without getting caught."

Reid nodded in agreement, scanning the rest of the file in seconds. "Says his license was revoked after the charges and he saw many different doctors before the incident and many after it, . Was admitted once, by himself, but then release three months later. He was scheduled to see a geneticist once in 2011 but it says he never showed to the appointment or to any thereafter. His girlfriend at the time filed a missing persons report around the same time but he has yet to be found." he tossed the papers aside. "That's not him."

"Robert Casey. Thirty nine year old caucasian male. Mother and father were both teachers." He said, his eyes scanning quickly. "Both were killed in a car accident when he was eleven. He was well behaved all through the rest of his school years, average grades. Looks like he dropped off the grid between 1992 and 1995 and then resurfaced in Colorado, where he enrolled in the University there. He then disappeared again from 1999, the year he graduated, to 2001 when he suddenly comes back on record as a teacher here in Virginia."

"Seriously?" Blake said in surprise. "Didn't they do a background check on the guy and see all those missing holes?"

Morgan smirked. "Not everyone is as cynical as us, Blake. Most people would see a gap in time like that and assume they eloped or when backpacking in Europe or something."

She still look disturbed but shrugged none the less.

Reid continued reading. "Casey's criminal record is clean but his medical ones are not. He's been on a cocktail of different medications for issues such as anxiety, depression and anger and he's seen three different psychologists and one specialist. The specialist recommended he see a geneticist and did up the paperwork. Maeve was the one who consulted with him." He said, keeping his tone even as his eyes traced her name on the paper. "They only met the one time and he continues to see the same specialist for ongoing issues. He's still employed at the same school."

He placed the papers neatly off to the side, officially designating it the 'maybe' pile.

"Ok, Thomas Freeman, forty eight year old caucasian male..." he trailed off frowning down at the documents in his hands, before tossing it on top of Caldwick's file. "That's not him."

"How do you know?" Hotch asked, looking down at the discarded file as if itching to grab it.

"Because he spent the last nine months in prison." He froze, his muscles locking when he realized what he'd just said, before snatching the papers back up and shuffling through them quickly.

The rest of his team watched quietly as his eyes snapped back and forth over the words, a hint of desperation in his gaze.

When he finally found what he was looking for he sat down, grateful that there happened to be a chair behind him.

"He was released in the same week Maeve stopped getting her letters from him."

The team exchanged glances and then JJ told him to read them the file quickly.

"His mother was a janitor and his father was a grade two teacher at the same school Thomas attended. In 1975 Thomas witnessed his father shoot his mother in the back of the head after they'd all sat down at the dinner table. He then shot and killed himself."

"Jesus." Morgan murmured.

"He bounced around foster homes but did surprisingly well in school. After he graduated he went on to become..." he sighed, "...he was a grade two teacher at the same school his father taught at. Everything was fine until about a year when he saw a doctor about a headache he'd had for a solid week that didn't seem to show any signs of going away. He had several MRI and and a CAT scans done with little success in finding the source of the headache. He was then refered to a psychologist when it was thought to be a psychosomatic issue." Reid swallowed, chilled by the similarity between what he'd been told by doctors for similar problems. "Not long after he started seeing the psychologist he was referred to Maeve. Nine months ago he was arrested, charged and sent to jail for attacking his psychologist when he refused to schedule another meeting with her at Thomas' insistence." He looked up, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Nine months ago is approximately when Maeve remembers the letters starting."

"That's gotta be him." Morgan said, Rossi nodding beside him.

"Like I said, he was released from prison in the same week that Maeve stopped getting his letters. He likely spent the two weeks after his release planning the abduction." Reid said, rolling his bottom lips between his teeth again, his legs already tensing in his anticipation to run for the SUV's in the parking garage. He continued speaking, more to himself than anything. "So all those letters saying he knew she was going out and that he was sitting in front of her house...all the threats to kill her if she left..." he shook his head. "They were blind threats. The only way he could try and control her from inside his cell."

He checked his watch. Thirty two minutes since the line went dead.

Hotch was already pulling out his cellphone, grabbing the page with Freeman's address on it. "I'll get the search warrant."

Rossi smoothed out his jacked and straightened his tie. "I'll make sure Strauss is on board. That way we shouldn't run into any...trouble."

Reid watched him walk away with a small frown, but he could not hold that train of thought for long before he started thinking about his next move.

JJ, Blake and Morgan had all scattered to their respective desks and offices to gather whatever it was that they thought they might need.

For his part, Reid made his way to his desk and the first thing he did was grab his gun, wondering if this feeling inside him might cause him to fire when he didn't have to.

As he holstered the weapon, Hotch and Rossi both strode back into the bullpen side by side and Hotch called from the doorway. "We've got our warrant, lets go!"

As Reid passed Morgan in the hall, he snatched the keys to the SUV out of the man's hand, glaring when the elder agent made a move to take them back.

His voice was cold as he stared Morgan in the eye, moving the keys out of reach. "I'm driving."

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Make my day and write a review, please!


	3. Vanilla and Coffee

Well, I'm not sure what everyone else thought of the new episode of CM, but I thought the ending blew chunks...of a certain character's brain matter all over the floor. Needless to say I was both shocked and appalled at the ending. I made a bet with my roommate that there was NO WAY the writers would kill her off so soon after introducing her...and I lost.

ANYWAY...my story will end the CORRECT way.

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**Chapter 3: Vanilla and Coffee**

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The drive to Thomas' house was one of the tensest that Reid could ever remember, and he'd been on some pretty tense car rides in his short life.

The urge to press his foot to the floor was strong and his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel and, if that wasn't enough, Morgan's eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face. However, he had spent many years studiously ignoring Morgan's Big Brother stares and was managing to just that, with no small amount of success. At least until the other agent spoke out loud and he was forced to hear it.

"We'll get her, Reid. She's gonna be fine."

"Save it, Morgan." He spat back, irritated with the man for even thinking, let alone speaking, what he'd just said. "Don't feed me the same lies we tell to victims' families."

"Reid, I wasn't trying to-"

"The reality of the situation is we might not get there in time." Reid interrupted, turning the SUV around a street corner without slowing, causing an unprepared Morgan to slam into the passenger door. "That's _always_ the reality of the situation." His hand tightened on the steering wheel.

God, what was that psychopath doing to her right now? Was she tied to a chair? Chained to the wall? Had he gagged her after she'd screamed for him? He rested his elbow on the window edge and began chewing on his thumbnail as images of past crime scenes flashed ruthlessly through his head, relentless, sickening to the point where he thought he might have pulled over to vomit if he hadn't been so pressed for time.

"...figured this out fast, Reid."

The young genius blinked, passing a hand over his face when he realized Morgan had been talking this whole time. When he didn't react though, Morgan continued to stare at him as if waiting for a response.

"Did you hear me?" the older agent asked.

"We're here."

His left foot hit the dirt of the driveway before the vehicle had even come to a full stop and, as he trotted up the front path, Morgan, Hotch and Rossi following, he couldn't help but cast a distasteful eye over the property. To be fair, he was a tad biased, but even so, he thought that most people would consider the house and yard to be, at the very least, unkempt looking.

Weeds had overrun most of the old flower beds and twisted up between a crumbling white picket fence, their vines and leaves shrivelled and dead. Paint was peeling off the house in long strips, making the building look as if it had been mauled by a giant tiger. The screen door on the porch was hanging pitifully on a single rusty hinge, the screen itself clinging precariously to the frame in only a few spots.

"He must have left in a hurry." Morgan noted as he pushed gently on the door and it swung inward.

Reid pulled his critical gaze from the nasty looking, thorny vine that had wedged itself between the side of the house and the only shutter left on all the windows, popping it off it's bottom hinge.

He followed the other men into the house, slapping a hand to his nose and mouth when a horrible stench rammed itself rudely up his nostrils.

"Oh man!" He heard Morgan cry, unable to see him through the blurry tears in his eyes.

Rossi had pulled a hankerchief from his pocket and was using it to cover his nose and mouth and Reid glanced over at his boss, doing a double take when he saw nothing but a slightly deeper frown than usual on the man's face.

After his eyes had stopped watering, Spencer began to make his way through the small house. From where he stood in the front hall he could see a kitchen off to his right, a stairwell in front of him as well as a hallway to what he assumed was probably the back door and to his left was a sitting area. From what he could see from where he stood, the inside of the house looked about as well taken care of as the outside, only without the added benefit of being exposed to the air to whisk away the stench.

"There has to be a dead cat in here, or something." Morgan sounded pained when he spoke, like he was trying not to breath.

Hotch and Rossi went into the kitchen and Morgan started up the stairs, perhaps hopping it would stink less up there, so Spencer moved cautiously into the living room. Within a few seconds he counted one hundred and forty two books stacked haphazardly on a large table by the wall. Strangely, he saw no other books anywhere in the room, not even on the large bookshelf that took up the whole opposite wall.

He quickly scanned the titles of the first stack, noting with a sickening twist in his gut that they all shared the same topic. Genetics and various sub categories.

Over by the large bay window, under which sat an ancient looking wooden chest, a flash from a stain glass ornament that caught the sun made him look over.

His eyes fell to the chest, his nose wrinkling as he walked to it. The smell was getting worse.

He touched the surface and the wood felt hot under his palm from where it had been bathed in sun day in and day out. He stood back up and pulled his shirt sleeve down over his hand, using it to cover his mouth and nose, and then balanced on one foot as he used the other to kick open the lid of the trunk.

He nearly screeched when a cloud of flies buzzed out and immediately started pinging off the window.

He heard two sets of footsteps behind him as he quickly backed away from the disgusting site.

"I see you've found the source of the smell." Rossi mumbled through his hankerchief. "What the hell is in there?"

Now doubled over in an attempt to quell the wave of nausea, Reid scrunched his eyes shut. "Cats. I think."

"Hey guys, up here!"

Morgan's call was a welcome excuse to leave the room and the three of them climbed the stairs in single file.

"It's so much cleaner up here." Rossi exclaimed in surprise.

"Smells better too." Hotch contributed, his black eyes spotting the open window at the end of the hall. The tattered curtains were blowing gently, signifying that at least some air had been allowed in to the house.

Reid's head swiveled back and forth as he walked down the long hallway, looking for the bedroom. When he spotted it, he strode in, eyes scanning expertly for anything of significance. Of course the first thing he noticed was the large shrine which took up most of the wall opposite the bed, likely so the man could stare at it as he fell asleep. The thought of this creep staring at the hundreds of pictures of Maeve that he'd painstakingly tacked up made Reid simultaneously want to vomit and punch a hole in the wall.

He tore his eyes away, forcing himself to keep looking for anything that might tell him where this man might have taken her. He flung open the man's closet doors, lips pressed in a firm line. It was a relatively ordinary looking closet, especially when compared with the decrepid state of the rest of the house, but one thing stood out. A book case had been crammed into the small closet and on it's shelves were nothing but note books. And lots of them.

He sighed, beginning to gather them up and dump them on the bed. It was going to taker longer than he would have liked to read them all, even with his freakish ability to read ridiculously fast, but he also knew that these were likely journals the man had kept on his obsession and may hold the key to where he had taken Maeve.

As he opened the first note book to the first page he let Morgan, Hotch and Rossi's voices wash over him.

"Ok, so we obviously have a man who is completely consumed by his obsession." Morgan was saying, looking around the room briefly, "So much so that he's let his house fall apart around him."

Hotch was quietly observing the wall of photo's, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were strolling through an art gallery.

"Let's not forget the three dead cats in the chest by the window." Rossi mumbled. "He was so preoccupied that his pets starved to death."

Reid blinked, trying to push his eyes into sending the written words from the journal into his brain even faster.

_'She is so beautiful. She is so perfect. Her hair like a flowing river in the light of the moon...'_

He had skimmed through most of the first book, finding little else but gushing words of undying love and the same kinds of love addled word vomit that most teenagers would write about their first crushes.

"God..." he muttered, slightly disgusted, tossing the book on the floor. He took a moment to look for the least worn books, signifying the most recent writings. He spotted three with the edges still sharp and the price tag still on and snatched them up, crossing his legs underneath him.

"What have you got Reid?" Hotch asked, turning from the wall of photos.

"Journals." He said dismissively, trying not to lose his focus.

His eyes snapped back and forth across the page at top speed.

_'Someone else. There is someone else. She didn't say. She never says but I know I can tell. I can always tell. She lied to me. Lies lies LIES...'_

"Getting closer." he murmured flipping to the next page.

The bed dipped beside him as Morgan sat down and grabbed one of the newer books that Reid had picked out. He'd only read for a few minutes before he snapped the book shut, "This guy is definitely detached from reality."

Reid closed the journal he'd just finished and held his hand out to Morgan for the other one. "So far I've only read two of them but they were both just ramblings. They give nothing away."

"Keep reading, I'm going to check the other rooms and see if there is anything useful." Rossi said, walking back out into the hall. Hotch followed close behind.

Spencer was feeling frustrated, his eyes now only skimming for key words and phrases as he turned a page every two seconds. Finally a string of words, scribbled messily and quickly, obviously fueled by the urgency of strong emotion, caught his attention.

_'This has to end. I've had enough. If she refuses to see what I have been trying to show her then she leaves me no choice. If she wont be with me then she won't be with anyone.'_

His eyes jumped down to the next paragraph, hoping the man might have been stupid enough to write a detailed account of his plans. But after turning several pages, he found nothing particularly helpful except a vaguely mentioned 'location' that had been purchased for the purpose of executing of his plans.

He chucked the book into the open closet with a bit more force than necessary and cursed.

"Nothing but psychotic ramblings and the less than helpful mention of a property." he mumbled, sensing the question in Morgan's stare.

"Hey guys I think I found something!"

Sharing a quick glance, Morgan and Reid left the bedroom to answer Rossi's call.

* * *

"Speak your wishes, my white chocolate beauty, and I shall grant them!"

"Garcia, can you search for all properties in Virginia that have the last name Freeman listed as the owner?"

There was silence on the other end for a second and then. "Er, well..."

"How many?"

"Seventy eight."

"_Seventy_...seriously?! Ok. Uh, Ok." Reid fisted his hair in frustration, scrunching his eyes shut as he tried to think. "Ok, narrow it down with the first name Thomas."

"Oh...just one." She rattled off the address and Reid cursed.

"That's were we are now. Ok, what about his parents? Jane and Brian Freeman?"

More taping in the background.

"Well they had another residence besides the one that Thomas inherited when they died, but it was put up for sale and sold three years ago. Hang on one second...OK! Here we go junior G-man, a Jane Wilson purchased an old textile factory exactly one month ago today-"

"Who the hell is Jane Wilson?" Reid interrupted, trying not to feel too hopeful about what he thought Garcia might be about to tell him.

"That, my tasty little slim jim, is Thomas Freeman's deceased mother's maiden name. Sending the address to all your cell's as we speak. Garcia out!"

Reid hung up and turned around just as the other men's phones all beeped at the same time, signifying they had received the address.

"Shit. That's thirty miles outside of town!" Morgan exclaimed, running a hand over his bald head.

As they made their way back to the SUVs Spencer's brain was working in overdrive. Why the hell would that idiot Freeman buy a place so far out of town? Did he think that would somehow increase his chances of not being found? And if he went so far as to forge his dead mother's name to the papers why not just make up a name altogether? That way it would have been nearly impossible to trace the property back to Thomas.

He slammed his hands against the steering wheel in anger, making Morgan jump in the passenger seat. "This doesn't make any god damn sense!"

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, blinking rapidly, obviously still taken aback by Reid's outburst.

"Come on, Derek! Why the hell would this guy sign his dead mother's name on the papers for the house instead of playing it safe and just making up a name? He can't be that stupid." he sighed. "What if...what if we're walking into a trap. What if he bought this property, forged his mother's name on the documents, just to throw us off the trail. He knew it would be the first weird thing to pop up in our system and that we'd be all over it."

The other agent seemed not to know what to say and he took a few moments to consider his words carefully.

"Ok, say this is a decoy-"

"Then we're wasting time-"

"-but say that Freeman just _is_ that stupid! We're talking about a guy that has lost touch with reality in every way, Reid. This guy isn't thinking rationally man, there is a good chance that him signing his mother's name to those papers was his...unhinged mind coming up with the solution to a problem."

He sighed heavily, "Yeah. Maybe."

The drive to the old factory took them over forty-five minutes and by the time they got there the sun had sunk lower toward the horizon, casting long shadows on the ground.

It was obvious as soon as they stepped foot into the old building that the place had been abandoned long before it had been purchased by Thomas Freeman and, despite that fact that it was well outside of city limits and several miles from anything else, it seemed as if squatters and delinquents had still migrated to it. Graffiti, garbage and damages abounded in the old structure.

They picked their way quickly but quietly through the place, guns firmly in hand and held steady before them, Reid leading their small party. Before long, the sound of voices, muffled and distorted by mouldy walls and piles of trash, reached Reid's ears.

After picking their way through a large, open space that was littered with unused machinery, they came to a rusted metal door and stopped, looking at each other.

"Goes to the basement." Morgan whispered, pointing to the sign next to the door. "Reid those voices might have been coming through vents of something. If they're in the basement this door might be the only way in and out. That doesn't make me feel too good about going down there."

Hotch and Rossi were looking grim.

Spencer licked his lips, thinking. "Maybe they're just squatters or kids?" The others looked skeptical and he sighed. "Fine." he turned the knob on the door slowly so as not to make any noise. "You guys can stay up here and if you hear gunfire-"

"Screw that!" Morgan snapped. "You and me will go down and Hotch and Rossi will stay up here and listen for trouble. You can't go down alone, Reid."

As the two agents descended the poorly lit stair case, the voices became clearer.

They were getting close.

He followed a bend in the hallway they were sneaking down, then took the next left turn and suddenly found himself looking into an open area, right in the middle of which sat Meave, bound to a rickety old wooden chair. His heart ached at the sight of her tear-stained face and her wide frightened eyes.

His hand clenched around his gun when he spotted the tall man standing before her, his back to the small hallway where he and Morgan crouched behind the wall.

The two agents looked at each other, nodded once and snuck out from their hiding spot.

To her credit, Meave didn't even spare them a glance, which left Reid feeling both impressed with her ability to keep calm and relieved that she had not given away their position.

Astonishingly, Thomas was so engrossed in his own speech that Reid managed to get within three feet of him, aiming the barrel of his gun right at the back of the man's head. It was Morgan flanking him that finally shut Thomas up and caused him to jump in surprise.

But an arrogant smirk was back in place almost instantly as his eyes wandered down to the gun in Morgan's hand as if the agent were a child wielding a toy. "You came alone? How...stupid."

Grinding his teeth and trying to keep his anger in check, Reid ground out, "Drop the gun, Thomas."

The man jumped again, clearly not having been aware of Reid standing behind him, and turned, the gun in his hand raising slightly as he did so.

That was all the reason Spencer needed and he firmly squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the bullet shattering Thomas' skull and ripping through his brain was mixed tortuously with Meave's horrified scream and in the ensuing silence, Spencer's gut twisted as he raised his eyes from Thomas' corpse to meet Morgan's shocked gaze. He blinked several times, unable to look at Meave, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

Suddenly the rest of his team spilled into the room, quickly filling in the blanks of the story with a quick glance around.

And then her hands were on his shoulders, gripping with a strength he used to pull himself back down to earth. Her skin was velvety smooth when she brought a palm to his cheek and finally he looked her in the eye and saw only concern there.

"Spencer?" she whispered, as if unsure he was aware of his surroundings.

His eyes started to sting, "I'm sorry." though he was not entirely sure what it was he was apologizing for.

She simply shook her head, a small, sad smile on her full lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Closing his eyes and dragging a breath through his nose he noticed she smelled like vanilla and coffee and he mumbled into her hair with a smile, "I love you."

* * *

END

* * *

Ok...so I know I didn't really write Thomas' final speech or anything but to be honest I really just didn't have it in me. My apologies for the corny ending...I don't usually write sap like that.

READ AND REVIEW!


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